DUCK-SHOOTING IN THE EAST INDIES. 161 



till you reach the eternal Antarctic ice. There are 

 some fine ruins on the point, and also a modern 

 temple of some reputation for sanctity. Here the 

 coast road naturally turns north again, and we followed 

 it back to Matara. 



After lunch I ought to have caught the afternoon 

 coach, but somehow managed to miss it. However, 

 there fortunately was an extra one that day, so no 

 harm was done. 



My next experience of Eastern duck-shooting was 

 in India itself. When we marched into our station 

 and made inquiries about its sporting capabilities we 

 were told it was a poor shooting place, except for 

 wild fowl in winter. Our first year there was, how- 

 ever, almost rainless, and consequently the sport was 

 below the average. Nevertheless I will try to give 

 the reader some idea of a couple of days there. 



The duck did not arrive till late in November, 

 and it was on the 4th of December that I made my 

 first attack upon them, in company with two friends, 

 whose nationality I need hardly explain when I say 



that their names were respectively O'N and 



MacB . Our first draw was a small tank with 



steep, rocky shores. Directly we arrived there we 

 saw a good many duck resting on the water. We 

 decided that I was to go on and ensconce myself on 



the shore to our left, while MacB remained 



stationary, and O'N - - went round the right shore 

 towards the place where most of the duck were 

 lying. 



